Julia O’Connell reflects on her Hatching Residency

In early November I was fortunate to be a Nest resident. I submitted an application  previously and had sprawled out a myriad of ideas for exploration given the chance to have two whole weeks of headspace. I was excited and nervous.

The premise of my application was to interrogate ‘pieced’ textile work and the significance of creating ‘whole cloth’ from scrap fabrics and to have focussed time on my textile practice after having ran the Shop Front Theatre (SFT) in Coventry for 13 years with Theatre Absolute where I work as a producer.

An unexpected part of my residency was my 40-minute walk from home to the Nest studios and back each day.  I didn’t anticipate how valuable the practice of journeying to the Nest and back was to be.  It allowed me space to unravel everyday tasks, to-do lists and worries in my head on the journey there and then gave me reflective moments on the way home about my time at the Nest. A note-to-myself with my next emerging body of work is to keep using walking as a tool to unravel and process ideas. 

I took the bare minimum of clobber into my artist space. A deliberate act of having to use what I had with me at the time, and to improvise activities with whatever could fit in my Morrison’s shopping bag! It’s a valuable lesson from my time as producer at the SFT, we had very little in terms of resources and it forced you to work harder creatively with your imagination and experience. 

My workspace at home has little bare wall space. My first act at the Nest was to pull out similar value tones of cream and white and assemble them on the blank walls in the studio. 

I would normally stitch or tack pieces of cloth together, but I didn’t bring a machine and didn’t want to hand stitch straight away, so I improvised with quilter safety pins, and it was surprisingly satisfying to manipulate, twist and connect ragged fabric pieces of differing weights into position. I had no sketchbook of ideas, no pre-plan of creating this assemblage but soon – out of I don’t know where,  a pleasing ‘whole cloth’ emerged…it felt like a whoosh of something in me splurging out onto the wall because there was space physically and mentally.  

My previous abstract pieces were usually quite small, about 10 by 10 cm at the most, but this sprawling cloth was much bigger.  Having the distance to take a step or two back and just look at its form against the pleasing green studio wall was stimulating. 

Each day I tracked the changing light through the studio windows and on a particularly windy but sunny day an unexpected interaction with the whole cloth emerged. I waited patiently,  being very still, barely moving, holding my breath to capture on my phone’s video, the wonderful rays of light moving and beaming onto the new whole cloth. It was just one moment of a day, but I was fully immersed and very present in this connection.

I positioned the table and chair opposite the cloth. The whole cloth almost became a comfort blanket over the residency period. When I got stuck for ideas…I just looked back up at the cloth – remembering that whoosh as the piece emerged – it was a visual reminder to trust in yourself and your experience and craft. 

I think a lot about wasted cloth, dead stock, the fast but slow break down of fashion, and the unforgiveable mountains of discarded textiles all our countries produce. It’s overwhelming. In the studio, I focussed on using up all scraps in my hand and bag – a small act of resistance or futile perhaps? What could I remake from these pieces, what new techniques could I learn with them? I pursued the manipulation of the fabric scraps, creating mini pieces yet deliberately moving on to another technique once I’d lodged the previous in my head. This residency time was about exploration not completion. 

At the table, I began to play with smaller pieces of cloth, wrapping and twisting the pieces into cordage. Again, there was no plan but connecting to cloth was satisfying – running curled cottons, raffia, and wool scraps through my fingers. I googled blanket stitch and spent a whole day (!) learning to do it less half-arsed than usual – soon miniature 3d sculptural vessels started to form and I then experimented further by cutting and removing fabric from cloth too, making deliberate holes and reinforcing the edges with a pleasing blanket stitch.

No sewing machine meant that my hands and fingers tired easily even though I hand quilt all the time. I was forcibly pushing needles through clumps of fabric, closely woven silks, and rayon scraps. To alleviate the aches, I began to incorporate a warmup and hand massages as part of my daily routine – acknowledging that my hands are valuable and need much more care. 

Over the two weeks, I had time also to communicate and socialise with other artists in the building. Derek Nisbet from Talking Birds spent some time with me as part of my initial enquiry was about the process of collecting sound from the materials I use in my practice. Like, literally “how do I start collecting sound from stitches and sewing ephemera?” 

He introduced me to Steve Reich’s mesmerising ‘Clapping’ video, (I knew of his work but wasn’t familiar with this piece).  It’s a perfect track to demonstrate how to really listen. We talked a lot about the simplicity of working with just one single sound. I like the similarities that music and stitching have: beats, dots, rhythms and repeats – all weaving and unfolding stories and narratives. Give yourself time to have a listen Clapping Music

My new work begins in late 2024 it’s called Quilt, Stitch, Resist and is one of Theatre Absolute’s Project:Public commissions. The ‘Resist’ element will be a live textile theatre performance. This time spent at the Nest was invaluable to my practice and has given me plenty to explore further as I develop the performance. 

Thank you to all at the Nest. To Charlie for getting stuff out of my head onto paper! To Philippa for gifting me treasured fabrics on day one, to Derek for being a truly inspiring composer and to Janet for her huge ‘spinney’ hugs and teaching me to slow down more and bake bread. Thanks everyone for your kindness. 

Do follow me at @mamajulescov as my experimental textile pieces are realised further and my rehearsals begin.